Dining Out

A friend at work said she and another girl were ordering dinner from Sweet Greens a few blocks down from our work in Williamsburg. Tired from practicing meticulous procedures to prepare and eat gluten-free toast with an avocado and a parfait and coffee, I agreed to take the risk. She said they offered a lot of gluten-free options (she's living with a non-celiac gluten sensitivity) yet I was skeptical. We scanned the options to customize a salad. All looked promising except for one item, the spicy broccoli. All gluten items were supposedly marked, but surely they were using some type of sauce thickened with flour or mixed with soy sauce. We decided it was best to call and check. I asked the man on the line about the spicy broccoli, and he confirmed that it was. Still, I wanted more reassurance. I contemplated. I imagined the gluten proteins attaching to my small intestine, and my antibodies recognizing those proteins as a threat, and attacking those proteins along with my intestine in a self-destructive manner. "I have Celiacs, so it's really important." He reassured me that his sister in-law also had celiacs, that he understood what Celiacs was, and that his food was safe to eat—including the spicy broccoli. Not only did he reassure me, but he recommended an additional rice dish that was also safe, and that would fluff up the salad.

Gluten-Free Spiritual Food

So there is an awareness of Celiacs, at least in NYC. I can't vouch for other parts of the country. Someone I know told me her sister has Celiacs, that she lives in Knoxville, TN, where I'm from, and that she doesn't really eat out. She nearly always cooks.

The salad turned out to be filling, fair in size, delicious, and overall, satisfying. The total came up to about $10 with a tip. That's average, or below average for a NY dinner. The explanation likely lies in that the ingredients were all naturally gluten free: bacon, mushrooms, spinach, rice—one of the many gluten-free types—and sweet potato bits, among another item or two that I've since forgotten.

This last weekend, I was in the city and hungry to the point that I become rather irritated. Stupidly, I got off the train in Chinatown. What hungry celiac gets off the train in Chinatown!? It's practically a full assault on my body. A celiac is not ambitious, no matter how trained s/he is, s/he's a fool, and that's not up for debate. I didn't want to be defeated by my new dietary restrictions, and going home for food sure felt like submitting. So I looked up places nearby that offered certified gluten-free food options. Remember, just because a restaurant offers gluten-free foods, that doesn't mean that it's safe. Cross-contamination is the sly devil. I ended up at a well-reviewed place in the West Village called Risotteria "Since 2000." Alone, I was able to take the last seat available right next to the cash register. This guaranteed exceptional service. The servers and hostess felt obligated to constantly check in on me I'm sure, because they were just dodging the motion of my arm receiving signals to control the nerve's ordering the brain to cure hunger. I was consuming my two "gluten-free breadsticks" as the server announced upon the hostess seating me. I ordered a basic pizza—the "GFZ/ mozz/ fresh/ garlic/ Onion" as my ticket read. They had the bar in front of me lined with gluten-free beers by Green's, Glutenberg, and others. I drank water. My total came just short of $20 before tip (the service was exceptional after all!). This was a thin-crust 10" pizza—a personal pizza for anyone who weighs over 100 pounds. After tasting it for a few bites, I didn't doubt the authenticity of their claim to be %100 gluten-free. Two corporate women justifying to each other why it was okay that they felt they no longer needed to be a CEO at their company as they had as a child, that being "at the middle of the ladder" was perfectly fine, paid their tickets with American Express cards and left. The next people seated by me were a couple, a relatively new one it appeared, and they Instagrammed their gluten-free breadsticks and Brooklyn Lager... I felt trivialized, but that's for another post.

One more story. I took a hiking trip through the mountains in the Taconic Region in the Cold Spring/Nelsonville, NY area this last weekend, and afterwards—man did I need some calories. I wandered down Main Street, the every-small-town/village-Main-Street, and found a woman standing outside a restaurant to whom to ask difficult questions. She couldn't answer them, and directed me inside to talk to server about it. So I did. I wanted the pulled pork sandwich, sans bread of course, and french fries and pickle. The server informed me that they offered a gluten-free bread. I asked about the bbq sauce, if she knew it was gluten-free. Since she wasn't sure, I asked to see the label, which meant bringing the whole big tub of bbq sauce out to the table. Some people might have been embarrassed, but I didn't care. I think people stop caring so much regardless of who they are after they move in to anonymity in NYC, regardless if they're there or not, which I currently wasn't. The label was actually marked "gluten-free." Boom. I asked her with what else the chef used to cook the sauce and meat. "He mixes in raw vegetables," to which I should have asked if they were prepared on the same cutting board as non-gluten items. I should have asked the same about the bread. But I didn't. I was too excited by the prospect of eating a pulled-pork sandwich and curly fries. I asked if they crisped their fries with flour. After the clear on that one, I ordered. Then I got some coffee and walked back into the woods. I survived both Celiacs and the wilderness.

Private America 

Evening Light

Side of Cold Spring Apothecary Building

Antiquated and Derelict West Point Office Building

-All photos taken by a Celiac

A Deeper Understanding and Trader Joe's

I just flexed on a chocolate bar. As in I just flexed both arms trying to break the short piece of a Woodblock chocolate bar. One must savor all food under newfound dietary restrictions. I laid the chocolate bar on an unwashed surface, and I hope that's alright. I'm still learning. Here is a list of restricted items in e.e. cummings fashion:

pizzasandwichescroutonssoysaucemostsaucesbabkapastriespastacerealspaghettibagelspretzelsfriedanythingexceptfrenchfriesnotcookedwithflourforextracrispwafflespancakescookiespiecakedonutsicecreamsandwichesgranolamuffinsbeergravydressingsmaltsomehotdogsfriedeverythingoreoesdumplingslomeinspringrollsandanythingelsethatcontainswheatbarleyorrye

e.e. cummings smoking a gluten free cigarette

I can still smoke cigarettes, but I don't smoke cigarettes. I don't smoke them because I don't want to develop something chronic, or at least dangerous, like lung cancer or emphysema, so instead I developed something chronic like celiacs. I don't really drink much either (a NY beer is like $7 anyway unless you go to a "dive bar" where ironic lumbersexuals hang out) so beer is not a total loss. Wine, some liquor, and cider is permissible. I might have a glass one day, on NYE or something. Anyway, the aforementioned words, or non words, are just that, nothing. They're non-existent, because I can't consume them. For an American, if they can't consume it, it doesn't exist, because what's consumed constructs their identity. We're capitalists, albeit late ones. (Side note, how much longer will we rely on certain markets to fail?)

What'd I really like to do is capitalize on Celiacs, like buying milk in glass bottles from all the dairy I'll be consuming, and returning the container for a fat credit $$$. Furthermore, I now have an excuse to devote more time to perfect my grilling techniques with gluten free spices (most spices are gluten free hehe), but I may have to keep it to the stovetop, because this is NYC, and I may have a tough time finding a legal spot to grill or creating a space to store one. I could use a public park grill—well, probably not. Maybe with lots of foil. It'll be worth it, because I'll be getting all the babes, including the gluten free ones. Calling most of Brooklyn.


Maybe I should throw a party, BYOGFB or cider or wine or liquor. I don't know if my landlord/super/roommates will approve that though. Bring a babka from the upper west side (not for me, of course).

Some foods that are gluten free include most dairy, meat, nuts, produce, chocolate, gluten free bread, coffee, and water (New Jersey water pending approval). Let's back up a little. Have I even said what gluten is? Yes, it's found in barley, wheat, and rye, but the "it" is a protein. According to celiac.org—which is a non-profit so it must be right—says gluten is a "generic name for certain types of proteins found in the common cereal grains wheat, barley, rye, and their derivatives." I added the oxford comma to that quote by the way. My mom always told me to get my protein, that eggs were high in it. Too bad I soaked up my runny egg yolks with a biscuit already smothered in gravy LOL. There are plenty of brands out there that offer gluten free versions of guilt-inducing treats like cookies, pancakes, waffles, and others, but they're usually more expensive, so I might advise all celiac and non-celiac gluten sensitivites and aspiring non-gluten eaters to improve your palates and steer your grocery buggy or lug your cart over to the produce aisle. Remember not to fry that squash unless you're using gluten-free bread crumbs (not real bread not real bread).

My favorite smell in my college town lingered outside a bread factory. They operated on the sabbath. I should have known they were were cooking the devil's crumb in there.

Before I close here, I would like to give a shout out to TJ. I'm blessed to live four subway stops from a Trader Joe's. Mr Joe has been kind to the celiacs of the world by offering a definitive list of all of the gluten free products that he offers. I've never seen TJ out of his business suit into a tropical button up at my local store—exemplifying the white collar man empathetic to all working men, women, and LGBITQIA like our great president Barack "the man" Obama—but I respect him nonetheless for ordering down the bureaucratic line to the vice executive of something to the assistant manager of this or that wing of creative and graphic design at the TJ headquarters this fine celiac-safe list you can find here. Also important, when purchasing processed foods, look for the "gluten-free" label. A lot of the time they're may not be gluten inherent in the food, but it may have been processed in a factory containing wheat (examination on cross-contamination later). Yikes. Do your research and don't always rely on workers at the grocery. My co-workers have told customers that a cookie is gluten-free when asked about it, and they unknowingly said yes when there is in fact a tiny tiny tiny print at the bottom of the back of the cookie that states that it was made in a factory that also processes wheat products. Remember, remember Trey's blog and how he told you about that bs.

Here is a list of cookie items Joe will give you for your hard-earned money (or what's left after the latest subway fare hike.


1. Brown Rice Marshmallow Treats, Organic

2. Gluten Free Crispy Chocolate Chip Cookies

3. Gluten Free Ginger Snaps

4. Gluten Free Joe-Joe’s (Oreo's)

5. Snickerdoodle Soft Baked Cookies

6. Vanilla Meringues

Thank you for reading, and coming up soon will be my experience with trying to dine out, the social stigma and class implications of being gluten free (The US is still classist like it's still racist), and eventually a talk with my friend Stevie, who has a non-celiac gluten sensitivity, and who also is embarking (rather successfully and impressively) on a trash-free life. Maybe a little attention to that will give you all a break from the word "celiac." Also, if someone says that you sort of look like a celiac, get the test, man.

FEEL FREE TO POST A COMMENT BELOW

Diagnosis

He wasted no time and no breath, "You have Celiacs," the doctor said as I found the small back of the chair. After calling in the resident medical student to show her the results of my blood work—for posterity, bless it—and after receiving some prescriptions, I asked, "Do you want to advise me on anything?" To which he replied, "Study on your own, it's the best way. Abstain from Gluten, take the medication, and see me in three weeks." That was it. My entire diet was immediately rerouted via a toll bridge, and along with it where my groceries sit in my kitchen, and the places where I can eat. As I walked through Chelsea down through the West Village to the train, I thought, well first, "I wish I had my sunglasses," and then, I thought about my working environment, how I am surrounded by bread there, how I can no longer eat there. I can no longer stop by for quick Chinese food, toss a cheeseburger, dollar pizzas days are over, and my dessert options have gone from pecan pie and pastries to ice cream and fruit.

Let's cover the basics of Celiacs. What the hell is a Celiac? Do I look like one? Is it chronic? We'll start with the Wiki basics before cracking a book. It's an autoimmune disorder. The Oxford Dictionary defines autoimmune: "of or relating to disease caused by antibodies or lymphocytes produced against substances naturally present in the body." This isn't like when I took melatonin in college to help me sleep and pass finals—and by extension—move to New York City to suffer.


No, in the case of Celiacs, when gluten is digested, the small intestine realizes that it can't
break down the protein, and in turn the intestine sort of attacks itself, resulting in either stomach pain, possibly, if not caught in time, a manifestation through a type of dermatitis where the skin itches really freakin' bad (this is what was happening to me), and many other symptoms that I might talk about later. Celiacs is chronic, forever, a life sentence. The Celiac Disease Foundation (It's their 25th anniversary!) states,

"When people with celiac disease eat gluten (a protein found in wheat, rye and barley), their body mounts an immune response that attacks the small intestine. These attacks lead to damage on the villi, small fingerlike projections that line the small intestine, that promote nutrient absorption. When the villi get damaged, nutrients cannot be absorbed properly into the body."

If those nutrients can't be absorbed, the person gets really skinny and sickly. That hasn't happened to me, thankfully. Yet, I'm not out of the woods. Well, I'm in Brooklyn, so maybe I am. Really though, one autoimmune disease can give way to others, and even predispose the celiac to intestinal cancer. The key to remaining healthy, says experts and us commoners alike, is to maintain a life-long abstinence from gluten. To relieve me of my suffering, my doctor has prescribed me some aid to help me with the transition, but after that, baby it's an all natural cure—and a bougie one.

I'm starting this blog for numerous reasons. Firstly, I'm writing to be a part of the community struggling with this PMA-testing disorder. Secondly, some of my friends tell me I should write a blog if I want to write, because it's post-postmodern/mass mediated 21st Century and I'm not a novelist. Also, Celiacs sucks dude, and I need to write it out after watching my friends slam a New York slice. In the future posts expect me to cover topics like what a Celiac can eat; how to eat out and how to navigate social gatherings around food that are already difficult in the first place; cross-contamination and minor encounters with gluten; hidden gluten; who is affected by Celiacs; brands that cater to Celiacs; recipes; how to afford the disorder—even in NYC—and the state of Celiac culture, along with the stigma of being gluten free, in the city and elsewhere; and reviews and summaries of books and articles written on Celiacs, academic and non-academic texts by those with the disorder.

Also important, I want to reach out to to others with Celiacs, and would be interested in featuring some of those people to show how they have dealt with their new lifestyle (yes it is a lifestyle, and for some a philosophy), how they navigate their days and weeks.

If you would like to contact me, reply to my blog or shoot me an email at treyfrench9@gmail.com

If not, here is a picture of a Celiac, the back of one's head at least, my head and the "Defenders of the Union" at Grand Army Plaza in Brooklyn, NY, taken by the lovely Sharena whose fashion blog you will be blessed to find, here —> at http://fashionofanovice.blogspot.com